The lament for Waihi.

Observer, Volume XXI, Issue 1182, 24 August 1901, Page 22

The lament for Waihi.

Waihi, the gold-producer of the - North, We greet thee here, and, wretched, chew the cud Of anger and disgust (we toilers here) To view thy state of sloppiness and mud. For everywhere, one hears the sullen squash Of footsteps in thy dread abysmal slosh. Hide-walks and roadway— big and little streets — Tis e'er the same, the weary foot must tread And, when it rains, so soft the footsteps fall, Well might it be a city of the dead, Save where, perhaps, a patch of greasy lime Projects one, suddenly, into the slime. And great the joy we f<-lt when first 'twas said That Upper Main • street, on one side, would be Laid down in asphalt, so that we could walk At least mil chain in comfort in Waihi. Hut even now, at night, it makes one funk To walk about, for sober folk seem drunk. And where's that asphalt now": Why was it laid ? "I'was but a fond delusion and a snare ; Some weeks ago you might have seen a bit. Hut now no -sign or trace of it is there ; And even should there be a little bit — We'd just as leave go walk on mud as 'grit. And when torrential rains the skies pour forth, Such as we have experienced of late, Theu (lilmouT, Kenny. Hazard- -every street , Where are the words which will describe their state l'nles.s he walks on stilts or learns to swim. Where, when from labour resting, can we go To pass away a pleasant little spell Save to a casual gaff, a travelling play, Or loaf around the bar of an hotel? Else, must we walk about in mud and slops, Or sit on window sills and steps of shops ? Whore are the lamps to guide our erring feet From stopping in the puddle ever nigh ? Why, in a town full rich with cyanide, Must we in darkness ever hide-and-sigli For gas, in such a township as Waihi. Like, months long, has lit little Whangarei ? E'en on the sidewalks when the sun is set, Darkness of tombs is all that one can see, So that a stranger, by the late night coach, Quitting the path his first time in Waihi. By stopping in the trough gets nicely wetNear by the hostelry of Mr I'lett. Rise up. Waihi, and stir thy sluggish self ! Tell me a city of thy size ; say where There's one which hath not c'en a city Bo an! And town clerk, other officers and Mayor? Throw ofV the yoke which thou too long hast bore, That this condign reproach be thine no more. — S. (iKK.